


Going Home

by Passivefish32



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-01-05 20:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12196686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Passivefish32/pseuds/Passivefish32
Summary: After completing their first run and left unsatisfied, Pacifist Frisk returns to the Underground with the aim of putting things right. In order to prevent another crisis, they choose to remain in the Ruins and start a new life with Toriel. Can they stay together, or will fate have other plans for the determined child? Is this even what they want? (short story, repost from FF.net)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale.

“heya. is anyone there…? well, i’ll just leave a message…”

Frisk stood in place like a statue. Everything was still, unmoving. The child held the phone loosely in their right hand, the receiver held a few inches away from the side of their head. Locks of long brown hair ran down their head, half-covering their tiny ears. They looked straight ahead as they listened absent-mindedly to the voice on the phone, their expression vacant.

Frisk recognised it to be the voice of their friend, Sans. The child felt a small hint of warmth inside their chest. It was good to hear their friend’s voice again. Just listening to those familiar deep tones of the skeleton’s voice brought some measure of comfort to Frisk's mind. However, no matter how hard Frisk tried, they couldn’t make themselves speak. Every time they thought they were about to say something, the words would slip away. What was there to say? There was nothing that Frisk could possibly tell Sans that could make light of his situation – the situation of all monsterkind. They were trapped underground and left without a leader. There was no hope of escape for any of them, now.

Frisk couldn’t fully understand what Sans was saying on the other end of the phone. The child focused on the sounds of his voice, but the words would not register. The skeleton was trying to tell them something – details about what’d become of the Underground since they’d left, that much they were able to gather – but they found it possible to discern the words themselves. There was no interference on the line and Sans’ voice came through clear and distinct, but there was too much noise in the child’s mind to pick up much more than a hint of what was being said. He might as well have been speaking to them over a broken radio for all the good it was doing. Silently, the child gave up on the hopeless effort, lowering the phone from their ear and letting their arm hang limp by their side.

‘Where are they?’ ‘Did they manage to reach the surface?’ ‘How much time has passed since they arrived here?’ These were questions Frisk felt they _should_ be trying to answer, but they lacked the willpower to even try. Even trying to move their heavy limbs was too strenuous an effort for the child. They didn’t even care where they’d ended up, showing no attempt to find their bearings in this unfamiliar place. They stood there, distant and empty. Their mind was one big blank – all thought obliterated in a nebulous mass of doubt, and guilt, and pain.

Only one thing was clear to them: wherever they were, it wasn’t the Underground – meaning they had completed their goal. Against all the odds, they’d managed to escape from the kingdom of monsters, hidden deep inside Mt Ebott.

It was over. Their journey was finally at an end.

Or was it?

Frisk gave a sombre shake of their head. None of this seemed right. This wasn’t what the child had anticipated at all. They’d expected, perhaps unreasonably, to feel some sense of accomplishment or achievement from their escape. At the very least they’d hoped things would go back to normal, somehow. But there was no satisfaction in having made it this far – no sense of triumph. All of that had been stolen away the moment the King of Monsters, Asgore, had died.

For a child as young as Frisk, it was difficult enough to comprehend death. Having seen someone die in front of their eyes, Frisk already knew it was something they’d never be able to forget. They hadn’t known Asgore for long, really, but their battle had taught Frisk a great many things about the now-deceased King of Monsters. The troubled King was far from innocent: his crimes were terrible and his sins would continue to haunt him, were he still alive. But he hadn’t deserved to die – that much was certain.

When they had first met, the King had given the child no chance but to fight for their life. Frisk had tried desperately to find some way to spare him, to prevent something terrible from happening. They’d gotten close – _so_ close. But before they even knew it, he was gone. His life had been taken in an instant, snatched up by that villainous flower that Frisk had come to despise so deeply.

Now, the only image in Frisk’s mind was the sight of Asgore fading away, his body reduced to dust. The image was burnt into their mind and would not let them rest.

In life, Asgore had been a mighty and beloved leader of his people – but he’d done more than simply lead. He wasn’t just a King, but a father too. He’d been her husband, Frisk recalled. They’d had a child together. They were… a family.

Frisk shuffled on the spot uncomfortably, looking down at the tattered, long sleeves of their striped shirt. She probably still doesn’t know what’d happened to Asgore, the child realised. He was dead, his soul shattered into a thousand pieces, and she didn’t know. How would she react if she ever found out? What sort of things would she think?

Frisk looked away, their brow furrowed in dismay. The child wiped a few lingering tears from their eyes with the back of their shirt sleeve. None of this seemed right. It seemed so... unfair.

‘Was there anything they could have done?’ ‘Could they have prevented the King’s death?’ These were the questions that occupied Frisk’s thoughts – they circled relentlessly in the child’s mind with a mocking sort of stubbornness. A voice in Frisk’s head told them that there was nothing they could’ve done – that they were just a child, meddling in the affairs of a world they could barely understand, let alone have any influence over. A world they could not, and had never been, a part of.

The better part of Frisk wanted to dash those thoughts to pieces.

They looked back down at the phone. It'd gone dead, the dial tone beeped in an incessant, faint monotone. Sans was gone. Guess he got tired of speaking to no-one, the child reckoned. They could hardly blame him.

With a slow and deliberate movement, the child hung up and stashed the phone away in their pocket. As soon as they’d put the phone away, the air around them seemed to turn a touch colder. In that moment, a desperate loneliness enveloped the human child. Alone and lost, they couldn’t help but regret their decision to leave. Why had they been so focused on escaping the Underground? Did they make a terrible mistake? They’d left their friends behind and now they were on their own here. There was surely no way to go back.

No way to go back….

Frisk looked up from the ground in an instant, eyes sharp and alert. They felt their pulse quicken as an idea suddenly entered their mind. The cloud of fears hanging over their head began to dissipate. Up until now, they had feared that there would be no way to reverse what’d transpired – that Asgore was gone forever and the monsters would be doomed to remain imprisoned within the mountain. But perhaps, with the help of their unique power, there would be a way to go back – a way to undo those tragic events and find a better outcome. A happy ending!

A cheeky little grin wiled its way on to Frisk's face. To think they’d almost convinced themselves that they were a _normal_ child!

All the same, a heavy sense of trepidation weighed on the child’s mind. They had never attempted a full reset before. Could it work? Would it really be possible to return to their very first save point? Would they be able to go that far back, even after all the damage and destruction that monstrous flower had caused? These thoughts remained for a fleeting moment, but were quickly washed away by a wave of child-like optimism. The more Frisk considered the possibility, the more excited they became – and the more the possibility seemed a certainty.

The child was instantly reinvigorated from their sombre state – ready to use their power to return to the Underground. Even if the effort proved too much for them, the very least they could do is try. With a new sense of purpose, Frisk was filled with determination.

Frisk thought of the monsters they’d met on their journey – all the friends they had made. The child’s heart soared at the thought of seeing them all again, though they did their best to temper their enthusiasm as much as possible. As exciting as these thoughts were to Frisk, they couldn’t allow themselves to become distracted from their new mission. There were two goals in the young child’s mind: to undo what’d transpired in those final moments – and to see her again.

They might die if they didn’t get to see Toriel again.

The child shut their eyes tight, focusing all of their energy into a wild effort. Slowly and deliberately, they reached deep inside their soul, searching for a single thread of power they might latch onto. They found it sooner than they expected – a long, ribbon-like thread of bright crimson. The child smiled inwardly. This had to be enough determination to send them back all the way. Without a moment’s hesitation, they grasped a hold of that thread with everything had, drawing out the power from within…

**Reset timeline?**

**Y/N**


	2. Chapter 2

Frisk opened their eyes. Their head was spinning, their mouth dry. It felt like they'd just awoken from a long, deep slumber. Their limbs were heavy with a lethargic feeling. A dulled, nauseous sensation filled their stomach. Their mind was a haze, their thoughts obfuscated. The child groaned in discomfort. Whatever they’d just got done doing, it seems like they may have expended a bit too much energy.

Only half-awake, the child tried to gain their bearings. They were lying on their back, staring straight up at the sky. Only there was no sky – just a ceiling made of blackened rock. They trained their sight on the large hole in the middle. It seemed to stretch up and up into the darkness – they couldn’t see the top. They noticed a perceptible shift in the atmosphere. The air they breathed had a strange, musty quality to it.

The child shuffled around, shifting their weight ever so slightly. The surface they lay on was soft and seemed to support their weight with ease, holding them a few inches away the cold earth below. The child looked down at the floor beneath them to see what kept them afloat. They gasped at what they saw. Flowers – they were lying in a patch of golden flowers.

The clouds that’d settled in the child’s mind finally subsided. Frisk leapt to their feet, a soaring feeling coursing through them as they practically jumped for joy. Their plan had worked! They were back in the Underground, at exactly the spot where they had first fallen down. They’d successfully taken the leap back through time: everything had been restored to the way it was when they’d first arrived in the Underground. The child couldn’t contain their excitement: they were going to see their friends again!

With no intention of wasting another moment, the child jumped out of the flower patch. With a spring in their step, they set off down the hallway, leaving the craggy chamber and the patch of flowers behind.

Frisk skipped down the path playfully, passing through the wide door at the end of the hallway. They had the excitement of an explorer, eager to find their way through the Ruins once more. But what they saw as they turned the corner made their heart jump. They ground to an abrupt halt. Their legs seized up as soon as they realised where they were, their body frozen stiff. The room they stood in was dark, save for a spot of light in the centre where a grassy knoll lay. The room was distinctly familiar to them. This was where they’d first encountered Flowey: the creature that’d set this chain of events in motion. Asgore's murderer.

The very reason they were here again now.

Frisk was suddenly very nervous. In their last encounter, Flowey had transformed himself into a hideous creature of tremendous power. What had followed, the child struggled to recall. Although Frisk had prevailed against this fearsome adversary, it hadn’t been easy. Breaking free of the flower's influence had been an almost soul-shattering effort. In the ensuing exhaustion, much of their encounter remained a blur to Frisk. All they knew is that it would be a very bad turn of events if they were to run into that flower again. They still felt sluggish and tired, their body still recovering from the effort of the reset. They didn’t have it in them to handle another battle with such a beast. Even under regular circumstances, they wouldn’t fancy their odds.

That was when they noticed something strange. In their panic, they had overlooked a crucial detail: the flower wasn’t here.

Frisk blinked several times, looking around the darkened room uneasily. They slowly made their way towards the illuminated grassy patch in the centre of the room, their footsteps as light as feathers. They kept low to the ground and stayed alert, scanning every corner of the room for any possible place the flower might be hiding in wait. But everywhere they looked, they could see no golden flower – nothing at all. Finally, they looked back at the way they came. Nothing there, either.

The child scratched their head in confusion. What was going on? Nothing else appeared to have changed from the last time they were here – everything was just as before. They were even carrying the same equipment as last time: the wooden stick and their bandage. So why was Flowey not here?

Frisk almost jumped as they heard a familiar voice echo out across the room from behind them.

“Hello?” the voice said. “Are you all right?”

Frisk turned around. The child felt their heart lurch as they stifled a gasp. Standing there, hands folded in front of her, was Toriel. The friendly monster, resembling a goat-like creature with her white fur, small horns and long ears, wore a surprised look – she clearly hadn’t expected to discover a human child wandering around in such a place. She wore the same purple robe with the white sleeves and the royal crest – the delta rune – emblazoned on the front. It was just as Frisk remembered her – every detail exactly the same as when they’d met for the first time.

It’s her, the child internalized in disbelief. It’s really her.

Toriel looked at them with curiosity, a touch of pity showing itself on her face.

“You must be so lost and confused,” she continued sympathetically. She affected a friendly smile to try and soften the child’s nerves. “I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins.”

Frisk recognised those words immediately. Those were the same words she’d spoken when they had met in the last timeline. So the reset had worked, they realised. She had no memory of who they were. A small pang of sadness hit Frisk at the thought that her memories of them, the precious time they'd spent together, had been wiped away. On the other hand, the opportunity of reintroducing themselves to the kindly goat lady sent their curiosity soaring to new heights. Surely there were things they’d be able to do better than the first time they’d met. The child practically relished the challenge of making an even better first impression to the kindly goat lady than last time. They couldn’t wait to get started.

Frisk was also struck by the immediate change they’d sensed as soon as she’d appeared. As a magical being, Toriel seemed to radiate her own essence. Her emotions and feelings permeated the air around her – they had a tangible heaviness that Frisk was aware of. In this way, the child was always conscious of her mood and what she was feeling.

This form of magic was a curious quirk unique to the monsters Frisk had encountered in the Underground. Only a handful of monsters seemed able to suppress this power – that flower being one of them. But Toriel was not one of those types. Her magic was very powerful, almost cloying in its thickness. Frisk always felt a sense of awe when stood near her. Perhaps such power came through virtue of being a boss monster and the strength of her monster soul. It was much the same sensation the child had felt in the presence of Asgore. Frisk felt their heart sink as they thought of Asgore. The thought of his magic, the feel of it, made the child shrink a little. It’d been so sad – so hopeless.

A few words from Toriel pulled the child out of their melancholy thoughts. “This way,” she instructed with a smile. She turned and walked back towards the archway she had entered from. Frisk followed close behind her, hot on her heels.

Toriel led them into a small hallway and up a set of stairs. The familiar setting of the Ruins reasserted itself in Frisk’s mind – it was like revisiting a fixed point in time. Everything was instantly recognisable to the child, from the purple hue of the bricks that formed the walls and structures, to the reddish leaves that lay scattered all over the stone floor. How strange it is for them to be here again, they thought to themselves. Exactly the same as they remembered it, though the circumstances were quite different this time. Frisk felt a slight chill as they considered the main ‘difference’ in this timeline that they’d encountered so far – Flowey’s disappearance. The child resolved that they would stay close to Toriel, just in case that pest decided to show its face at a bad moment.

The pair of them passed into a small chamber that was immediately familiar to Frisk – the first puzzle room. A set of stone switches were set into the floor, with a separate yellow lever on the far wall. Toriel stopped in front of them, offering to demonstrate what she described as ‘the operation of the Ruins’. Frisk waited patiently while Toriel stepped on each of the four correct switches in turn and pulled the lever, solving the puzzle for them. Frisk gave a few quick nods to show they understood what Toriel was telling them, eliciting a small smile out of the motherly monster.

They moved on to the next room. Now it was Frisk’s turn to show her what they were made of. They’d already decided that they would take all their tasks seriously, no matter how straight-forward they might be. And so the child ignored the unmarked lever to their right, instead choosing to pull the lever that their host had abundantly labelled with yellow marker. Toriel clapped enthusiastically at this, showering them with praise. 

Next up was the training dummy – not for fighting, but for talking. The child made sure they were on their best behaviour. When faced with the dummy, Frisk did their best to strike up the most amicable conversation possible. They went beyond the basic conversion-starters that Toriel suggested, going as far as to ask the dummy how their day was going, what its favourite food was, and even when it’d last ventured outside this tiny room and explored the rest of the Ruins. Granted, there were few meaningful conversions to be had with a lifeless training dummy but the child perservered all the same, trying their hardest to make the conversion meaningful and enlightening for both sides. Out of the corner of their eye, they noticed Toriel raising an astounded eyebrow at their dedicated display.

After bailing them out of a sticky situation with a rogue Froggit, one of the resident monsters native to the Ruins, they reached the fearsome-looking ‘spike maze’ puzzle. Frisk obediently took Toriel’s hand as they traversed the hidden path through the maze together, just as they’d done the last time. Frisk couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed – they’d half-hoped they would get a chance to solve this particular puzzle for themselves. It was just the sort of challenge the child craved, though they could hardly turn down her offer of help.

At the other end of the extremely long hallway, the final test that she would set them, Toriel announced that she had to attend to business elsewhere. She quickly passed Frisk a small cell phone and turned to leave with the promise that she would return soon. Frisk tried to call her back but she was gone in a flash, leaving the human child standing there in the corridor. They were all alone again.

Frisk felt a sudden vulnerability: what if that flower were to return suddenly and ambush them while she was gone? Would she be able to save them like she had before? Or would they…

The child doggedly shook their head, shoving those fears aside. Now wasn’t the time to think such thoughts. They knew what they had to do. They looked at the cell phone in their palm – a curiously familiar item. An urge to hit the speed-dial button to ring Toriel gripped the child, but they knew there was little point in calling her directly. Toriel would not return to this spot – she was too preoccupied with sorting things out for them back Home. Even though it was technically disobeying her wishes, they would need to catch up with her themselves. The child stashed the cell phone in their pocket and set off down the halls on their own, delving deeper into the quiet halls of the Ruins.

The child quickly forgot about their previous concerns. They were off-the-hook, free to rediscover the Ruins and revisit the remaining puzzles that’d been set up for them. Though they were content to have the freedom of exploring by themselves, the regular calls they received Toriel were never unwelcome and never failed to lift their spirits. At the very least, it let them know that she was OK.

Then came the most important decision of all: the flavour of the pie Toriel was baking. Frisk had been waiting anxiously for the phone to ring, and had already prepared their answer by the time Toriel’s voice came on the line.

Cinnamon or butterscotch? Both, please!

Toriel reacted with surprise at the child’s snap decision-making. Either that, or it was what she'd been considering all along. But how could a child possibly guess that? She muttered a quick farewell to her little guest and hung up the phone.

Frisk strode through the Ruins confidently, a big smile on their face the whole time. One by one, they accomplished all the challenges before them with a lively ease, working their way through the Ruins bit-by-bit. They were truly happy, for they knew exactly what they were working towards: a fresh start. Their goal remained in the forefront of their mind: they were going Home.

There were, unfortunately, some instances where a monster didn’t react well to the human child’s presence and would set upon them. Thankfully, Frisk had expected this. They were well-practiced from their previous journey through these familiar halls. The few times that a monster lashed out at them, they would duck and weave through the attacks with an almost effortless agility. They’d already dealt with much worse. Frisk knew the behaviours and habits of these monsters like the back of their hand, but the child also had the patience to find a peaceful outcome for every encounter. They would try every trick in the book, always foregoing the use of force, until they’d won the monster over to their side as a new friend. It required patience but, in Frisk’s mind, it was worth the effort.

They also re-encountered Napstablook, the spectral creature that’d blocked their way on their first journey. There was something strange about seeing the bashful ghost again, lazily stretched out and pretending to sleep, almost as if it’d never moved from its spot. Though the ghost laboured under the same dejected, futile air that Frisk remembered from before, the child knew that the ghost’s troubles were far from hopeless. All that was required were some friendly words of encouragement.

Just as before, the ghost rushed off in a hurry before Frisk even had a chance to say goodbye. Though Frisk knew that the ghost would return to its home in Waterfall, it was always possible they might revisit the Ruins at some point. By then, perhaps the child would be ready to make the ghost feel more welcome in this place. For now, though, the child would press on. With just a few more puzzles to go, Frisk was more excited than ever to reach the end of the Ruins.

* * *

 

A short while later, the human child reached their destination: Home. Frisk trotted into the courtyard, the path lined with heaps of dry leaves. Before them stood an old tree, withered and ragged. Its reddish leaves lay scattered on the ground underneath its wispy branches – they had fallen off a long time ago. Behind the tree lay Toriel’s home: an old but well-maintained house fashioned out of the same purplish bricks that formed the walls of the Ruins.

They noticed some movement inside the house through one of the windows. That must be Toriel rushing around, the child recalled. She was making the final touches to the house, preparing for their arrival.

The child quickly looked down at their clothes: their purple and blue striped shirt and blue shorts. The Ruins, for all its charm, was a dusty old place and had already left its mark on what they were wearing. The child quickly straightened out their clothes, brushing any lingering dust and debris off themselves. They gave a small sneeze as they felt an itch in their nose, sparked by the small cloud of dust that was kicked up. But it couldn’t be helped – they wanted to be spotless. Clean clothes, and not a scratch from any of the monsters – Toriel was bound to be pleased with them.

A few moments later, Toriel stepped out of the house, walking hastily towards Frisk. She seemed surprised but also delighted that they had made it here by themselves, all while keeping themselves out of trouble. Frisk grinned sweetly, a small blush forming on their cheeks. They were relieved to see her.

Though the child knew that Toriel was more than capable of defending herself, they’d feared that their nemesis, Flowey, would resurface, deciding to go after her directly instead of them. Instead, Flowey still hadn’t shown himself. Frisk scratched their chin, perplexed. Was it possible that the flower had vanished from this timeline entirely? No, they had to assume he was still at-large, somewhere in this reset world. But if he was refusing to show his face, that could only be a good thing. Right?

That was when they remembered the King of Monsters, and Flowey’s main target: Asgore. Now that everything was reset, Asgore would surely be alive once more. Would the flower choose to go after Asgore by itself?

The child forced themselves to consider the possibility, trying to recall everything they knew about this world. At this point in time, the King already had the six human souls in his possession – a morbid treasure that he guarded fiercely. This was the treasure that Flowey seeked. But Flowey had only chosen to strike during their battle when Asgore was distracted. The flower was crafty, and only appeared when the six souls and the crucial seventh, Frisk’s own soul, were within its grasp. If the flower still lived, it seemed unlikely that they would be able to get past Asgore’s watchful eye, so long as the child kept their distance.

Frisk knew they couldn’t risk the possibility of Asgore's life being threatened as a consequence of their misguided attempts to escape. If continuing their journey outside the Ruins put Asgore’s life in danger, then the solution was obvious: they would stay here with Toriel. Maybe there would still be a way to leave the Ruins one day and see their friends again, somehow. But for now, they were in agreement with Toriel: it was too dangerous for them to leave this place.

To their surprise, this plan of action suited the child just fine. Standing there now, they found themselves wondering why they’d ever tried to leave. Why chase so hard after a way back to the surface? It didn’t seem to make sense to pursue such a distant goal. What they wanted – the thing they _really_ wanted – was already here.

“Is something wrong, my child?” Toriel interjected, looking down at them with mild concern. “You seem a touch dazed. Are you feeling well?”

Frisk looked up at Toriel, casting their mind back to earliest memories of this place: the moment they’d first awoken in the Underground. For a brief time, she had been like a mother to them – something they had never known. Not only had she saved their life from that fearsome flower, she'd taken them in, offering to care for them and raise them as one of her own, all out of the kindness of her heart. She was undoubtedly the nicest goat lady the young child had ever met.

Frisk wanted to show how much they appreciated her kindness but were unsure how to correctly express themselves. She was very tall, practically towering over them. Without a better option, the child wrapped their arms around one of her trunk-like legs in a tender embrace.

_Frisk tells Toriel that they love her very much._

A startled expression flashed across Toriel’s face. “My goodness! Where did this come from?” she exclaimed in surprise. She dug her other foot into the ground, stopping herself short of stumbling backwards as she stared in disbelief at the child clinging to her leg. After a moment, her surprise gave way to a warm, amused smile. She gently patted Frisk’s matted hair with one of her large, paw-like hands. “You are a very peculiar child, but an affectionate one,” she declared with a small giggle. “I promise I will do what I can to ensure that you are happy here.”

Taking their hand, she led the child inside the house. They turned right, past the wooden banisters of the stairwell, passing down the hallway and stopped outside the first of the rooms. Frisk already knew that her room was at the end of the hall. The one they stood in front of now – this one was going to be theirs.

Toriel led them inside their room as Frisk affected an expression of astonished excitement. After all, she had intended this to be her big surprise for the child. Frisk was more than happy to play along, though the comfy-looking bed, single wardrobe, patterned carpet and the oversized pile of toys were all immediately familiar to them.

After welcoming them to their new home and giving them a small pat on the head, Toriel stepped outside and gently shut the door behind her, leaving the child to their own devices. With an almost subconscious immediacy, Frisk crashed out on the bed. They gazed up at the wooden ceiling, a happy smile gracing their lips. For the first time in what felt like a long time, they were at peace. This was the start of their new life with Toriel. Last time, they’d decided to move on, leaving her by herself in the Ruins. But that wasn’t going to happen again, Frisk told themselves firmly. This time, things would be different.

The child gave a small yawn. They were exhausted from everything the day had brought them. Reaching over to the bedside lamp, Frisk switched off the light and snuck under the covers of the bed. Before long they were fast asleep, a glimmer of hope lingering on in their heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Frisk awoke in their new room the next morning. At least, by their best guess it was morning – it was difficult to be sure. Being this far underground, with no sky and no sun, it seemed almost impossible to keep track of the time of day reliably. Toriel didn’t keep a clock in her house either. But even without a clock, the child was conscious of having slept for a long time – and they felt all the better for it. The fatigue they’d experienced following the reset had finally passed. They were refreshed, their limbs free of those dull aches that’d gnawed at them relentlessly since their return to the Underground.

The child sat up in bed, pushing the bedsheets down to their waist. The small lamp in the far corner of the room was switched on, providing just enough light for them to see. They checked their surroundings, filtered through the haze of the half-light. At the other end of the room, they could see the light from the hallway filtering through the small gap just underneath the door. If Frisk focused, they could hear the faint sound of distant footsteps coming from another room. Toriel was already up and about, it seemed. But nothing else moved – everything was still and very quiet, as if they were sitting alone in a cave. With so little to focus on, the child became conscious of the gentle pace of their own restful breathing.

In the past, the child had been prone to fits of restless sleep. But this time, they had not woken up once during the night. They had slept a dreamless, unbroken sleep. It’d been entirely peaceful but also a bit eerie.

When they had last passed through the Underground, it had been different. Every time they had fallen asleep, without fail, they faced a recurring dream. They would hear a voice in the darkness – a voice that was unmistakably Asgore’s. The King of Monsters would reach out to them in their dreams, even before they had first met him, urging them onward on their path through the Underground. At least, Frisk _assumed_ he was talking to them, though it was never entirely clear. For some reason, he would never use the right name. Though, the child supposed, they’d never gotten the chance to tell him their real name. It still seemed strange for a King to guess about something like that.

Regardless, now that they were back in the Underground, they had half-expected to hear his voice once more, endlessly beckoning them to ‘not give up’. They _should_ have heard his voice. But they had heard nothing this time – not a single word.

Why couldn’t they hear him? Why had the old King fallen silent? Were the dreams just a curious anomaly that’d finally passed? Were they shutting him out somehow? Or was he…

The child bit their lip, dismissing the idea. He surely couldn’t have just _disappeared_. The reset had worked – that had to mean that everything had gone back to how it was. Asgore was most certainly still alive. Perhaps he was simply choosing not to speak to them, for whatever reason. That’s all it was – there was nothing to worry about.

Frisk's thoughts were interrupted as a pleasant smell reached their nostrils. They looked down at the wooden floor near the foot of their bed. The child practically leapt out of bed in excitement as they discovered the source of the aroma.

They had forgotten about Toriel’s other big surprise for them. Resting on the carpet was a plain white plate holding a slice of orange-coloured pie – a familiar-looking treat. Frisk scooped up the plate and, without hesitation, bit off a big mouthful of the pie. A beaming smile spread across the child’s face. The pie was still warm and slightly spongy in texture, the flavours rich and distinct. The key ingredients of the butterscotch and cinnamon complemented each other perfectly. The child hastily polished off the rest of the pie, leaving not a single crumb. They patted their tummy in gratification as they felt a warm feeling spread through them. Toriel’s signature dish was every bit as good as they remembered. She was truly an extremely gifted cook.

With a full belly, they decided it was time to get ready for the new day. After making their bed (they had always been told to be a respectful guest when in someone else’s home), they rummaged around in the locker resting on the floor near the shelves. After discarding a few uninteresting items that they found in there, the child dug out an old comb. The teeth were slightly gnarled but it was otherwise usable. Frisk took the comb in one hand and carefully brushed their hair, trying not to wince as they snagged a few knots. Before long, they were spick and span – ready for a new day.

They wandered out of their room and made their way into the living room. Toriel was sat in her large wooden chair, flicking through one of the books taken from her towering bookshelf. She looked up and greeted the child cheerily, setting aside her reading glasses. She stated that she’d been waiting for them to awaken for some time, confirming Frisk’s suspicion that they’d slept like a log the previous night.

The first order of the day was the first session of Frisk’s home schooling. The two of them sat down at the big table in the living room and worked their way through the curriculum Toriel had planned out. The day’s session went well – Toriel was a good teacher and Frisk remained attentive the whole time, though the lessons she had planned weren’t exactly what the child had expected. They started the day with your typical subjects: Maths, English and Biology. They also covered a brief history of monsterkind and Underground society that Frisk found particularly interesting. But intermingled with this standard fare were a host of unusual courses that Toriel had devised, including ‘horticulture’, ‘conversation skills’ and ‘independent thinking’. One thing was for certain: these subjects weren’t a part of any school curriculum Frisk knew of.

She even held a cooking class for them in the kitchen. Working together, they went through the basic mixture for cake and, by the end of the session, they’d managed to bake a small tray of little cupcakes for themselves. To the child’s disappointment, they did not cover her secret recipe for her Butterscotch Cinnamon pies, though perhaps she would be willing to teach them another day.

The lessons were delivered in short bursts, so as to not overwhelm the child with too much at once. This was a deliberate choice of Toriel’s, of course. As she described it, the aim of the schooling was to instil a ‘broad knowledge at a steady pace’. Frisk could understand her reasoning for keeping the lessons short, though it always left them hungry for more.

Once they were done with the day’s lessons, Toriel permitted them to go outside and play in the Ruins. Frisk perked up slightly – they were keen to stretch their legs after all the lessons they’d sat through.

“My child, I must ask that you do not stray too far from here,” she cautioned as they were about to walk out of the front door. “In time, you will have free reign of these Ruins. But for the time being, I'd like you to avoid going out too far on your own.” With that, she gave a quick smile and went back to take care of something in the kitchen.

Frisk ran out into the courtyard with the big tree. Unsure what to do at first, they spent some time dancing in the pile of leaves underneath its branches. Frisk loved the crinkling sound the dry leaves made underfoot. They would kick up a heap of the wispy leaves, just to watch them slowly drift down to the ground.

Once they’d had enough of playing in the leaves, they ventured out of the courtyard. They retraced their steps through the halls they had come through the previous day. As they wandered between the stone pillars that lined the switch room, the puzzle now deactivated, they found themselves wondering what they should do next. They’d already completed the challenges Toriel had set out for them. Just what exactly was there to _do_ now?

After enough backtracking, they found their way back to a familiar room with the collapsible pits. This area had once been part of a test that Toriel had set them. At the bottom of one of the pits lay a switch they'd needed to flip. Now that the puzzle was complete, all six of the pits were left wide open. It would’ve been a significant hazard were it not for the piles of orange leaves at the bottom of each pit, designed to cushion a fall.

Frisk approached the nearest pit to them and looked gingerly over the edge. All they saw was the ground below and the same pile of orange leaves heaped up at the bottom. Satisfied, the child took a few steps back from the edge. Then, with a running jump, they threw themselves down the hole, landing on the leaves piled up at the bottom with a soft 'thud'.

The child fell back in the leaves, giggling to themselves. This was one of Toriel’s puzzles they’d always enjoyed the most. Though it wasn’t the deepest of pits, the brief fall through the air was still a rush to a child as young as themselves. After a moment of staring up at the mouth of the pit, they got up and ascended the flight of stairs that led back up to the room above. They went for a few more tries, diving down the pit and then rushing upstairs to go again.

After they’d repeated this pattern a few times, the child decided they’d had enough of the game. Somehow, as fun as it’d been the first few times, this game had already become boring to them. Ultimately, they were going around in circles – what fun was that?

They decided to move on towards the next chamber of the Ruins. Frisk found it strange that they still hadn’t encountered any monsters yet. Perhaps they had slept for so long, they’d accidently woken up in the night of the next day without knowing it. The thought alone was worrying to Frisk – they desperately hoped they wouldn’t be forced to live nocturnally. But if Toriel was awake right now, shouldn’t the other monsters be awake too? Without a sun or sky to guide them, it was as if the monsters had developed their own separate concepts of time.

As they thought about this, the child stopped suddenly, a surprised gasp escaping their lips. They had spotted a group of monsters assembled a short distance away at the other side of the room. From a glance, Frisk instantly recognised them to be a group of Froggits. There were five of them in total. They were gathered in a circle, chattering amongst themselves in private. Having not encountered a single monster since they’d left Home, these humble creatures were fascinating to the child. With a mixture of excitement and apprehension, Frisk walked towards them with the aim of joining their conversation.

The group of Froggits didn’t seem to notice the human child at first. But as soon as Frisk was within a few feet of their circle, the creatures all turned to face them. The child introduced themselves, slightly nervous at the way the monsters all stared at them. Frisk tried their best to be amicable and, as Toriel had taught them, they tried to strike up a conversation. Their efforts, however, didn’t seem to have any noticeable effect. From what they could gather, it seemed that the frogs didn’t have a lot to say. They watched the child vacantly, uncomprehending.

Still slightly nervous, Frisk crouched down low to the ground, their hands planted on their knees in an attempt to blend in with the frog creatures. For a moment, the child considered imitating ‘ribbit’ noises in hopes that they might be better understood. They quickly decided against it, thinking they might be seen as insensitive or crass.

The child’s display was met with an impassive look from the Froggits, their blank stares mingled with the faintest hint of suspicion. They remained silent, making not a sound – not even a single croak.

The child was dumbfounded. They had no idea how to make themselves agreeable to the group of monsters. Remaining crouched down alongside them and struggling to think of conversation topics, the atmosphere was becoming more and more awkward by the moment. On top of all of that, Frisk’s knees were beginning to wobble from the effort of crouching. ‘Just how do frogs manage to stay crouched like this all day, anyway?’ the child wondered to themselves.

After a few desperate attempts to try and make themselves understood, Frisk decided they weren’t making any progress. They hastily excused themselves, bidding the frog creatures farewell and slinking off back down the hall.  

The child was flushed red with embarrassment. Thank goodness Toriel hadn’t been there to witness that, they thought to themselves. They couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief from having escaped such an uncomfortable situation.

But there was also a lingering feeling of disappointment at their inability to bond with the group of monsters. They were the only monsters they’d seen since they’d left Toriel and they seemed to want to have nothing to do with the child. Perhaps they’re still unaccustomed to seeing a human, Frisk considered. Maybe it’ll take some more time before they become accepted down here.

At least the monsters seemed more at-ease with their presence than before, to the point that they didn’t seem to want to attack the child anymore. That, at least, was an improvement.

With nothing really gained, the child decided to head Home. Toriel would surely be expecting them to return before long.

* * *

 

Keeping a brisk pace as they retraced the path, Frisk was able to find their way back surprisingly quickly. As they entered the courtyard, they noticed that the front door of the house had been left slightly ajar. The child passed by the ragged old tree and entered their new Home.

The house seemed completely empty – Toriel was nowhere to be seen, nor could the child hear the creaking of her footsteps on the wooden floorboards. Frisk found themselves wondering where she could be.

As they were about to pass down the short hallway to their room, they heard a familiar creak of wooden steps from behind them. They turned around to see Toriel come plodding up the stairs from the basement. She was giggling to herself quietly as if she'd just heard something extraordinarily funny. She seemed completely unaware of her surroundings and hadn’t noticed Frisk come in. Only once she’d reached the top of the stairs did she spot the small child staring right at her.

“Oh, you’re back!” she gasped with a start. She knelt down to the child’s height or as close as she could possibly get. “Did you have a good time out and about?”

Frisk gave a small nod. The business with the Froggits might’ve been a slightly sour note but they were otherwise happy. Toriel nodded in relief and stood up.

“I did not expect you to return so soon,” Toriel confessed, clearly having not planned for such an occasion. “Perhaps there is something you’d like to do here instead? There is still some time before I was planning to start dinner.”

Taking the child’s hand, Toriel led them into the living room. She sat them down in one of the chairs at the big wooden table, faced away from the kitchen. She asked once more if there was anything they’d like to do while they wait.

Frisk indicated that they would like to draw something.

Toriel nodded, turned on her heel and disappeared out of the room in a flash. A moment later, she returned with a few sheets of yellowish paper and some pencils. She set them on the table in front of the child and quickly withdrew to the kitchen.

The child spent the next few hours doodling anything that came to mind. Frisk had always enjoyed drawing. The pencils Toriel had provided were chunky lengths of wood and graphite, a good deal thicker than regular pencils and a little bit unwieldy in the child’s hand – but they were certainly good enough for Frisk. Sitting there at the table, they let their mind wander, their ideas flowing out on to the paper without pause. They drew all kinds of things: trees, snowflakes, pond reeds, rocky mountains, the pot of yellow flowers Toriel had set out in the centre of the table – anything they could think of. 

When their ideas finally ran dry, they allowed themselves a small break. They seized a tall pitcher sitting at the far end of the table and poured themselves a large glass of cool water. As they guzzled the water down, they wondered what other things they could draw.

They suddenly came up with an idea. They looked over their shoulder to see if Toriel was still rushing around in the kitchen. When they were certain they weren’t being watched, they turned back to the blank sheet of paper in front of them. Taking a freshly sharpened pencil, they set to work on their next picture – a picture of their friend, Sans.

It only took them a few minutes to finish their sketch. When they were done, they set the pencil down and held the drawing up in front of them. The child scrutinized it closely, satisfied. It wasn’t a bad likeness of the skeleton at all. They’d gotten his big eye sockets down, along with his toothy grin and laid-back demeanour. His thick hoodie, baggy shorts and slippers all gave him that shabby, carefree look. Frisk was surprised they’d managed to get his likeness down so well from memory. It seemed like forever since they’d last seen him.

The child was still looking at their drawing when they suddenly noticed Toriel approaching from the kitchen. Startled, they quickly turned the sheet of paper over so it lay face-down on the table, safely out of her view. She stood next to them, peering over their shoulder at the various drawings spread across the table.

“These are wonderful!” she exclaimed as she looked at all the scribbled-on sheets. “You are quite the talented young artist.”

Her eyes stopped on one drawing in particular. She picked it off the table, holding it up in front of her as she examined it closely. It was a doodle of a tiny butterfly perched on the branch of a rose bush. Though it was only a sketch, it was a pretty drawing and it held a strong likeness.

“This one is lovely,” she remarked in admiration. She tore her eyes away from the drawing and looked down at Frisk. “Would you mind awfully if I keep hold of it? I promise I’ll return it as soon as you wish.”

Frisk shook their head obligingly. They didn’t mind – she could keep it if she wanted.

Once Toriel was done admiring the child's work, she motioned for them to get up, as she was clearing the table for dinner. Obediently, Frisk gathered up their sheets of paper and retired to their room.

* * *

 

In the evening, or what the child supposed was evening, Toriel took out a large carpet and spread it across the wooden floor by the fireplace. The two of them sat in the living room together – Frisk on the carpet by the fireside and Toriel in her wooden reading chair. The magical fire in the hearth gave off a gentle heat that warmed the child's bones.

Toriel got up from her seat and leisurely picked a book off the large bookshelf. It was a thick, heavy-looking tome which turned out to be a collection of fairy tales. A layer of dust had gathered on the cover. Toriel brushed it off with one hand. Settling back down in her chair, she opened the book to the first page and proceeded to read the first story to the child.

Frisk sat still, listening to her intently. Time seemed to disappear as she worked the way through the book. They leapt from story to story, an assortment of fantastical tales that had the child locked in a trancelike state of wonder.

Of all the stories she read to them, there was one in particular that stuck out to Frisk. It was a story about an old legend of the Underground. The story told of a monster that'd discovered a hidden way out of the mountain. Using the secret passageway, they returned to the surface where they met a young human. The two became close friends almost immediately. The human, ostracized from their village and living a hermit’s life in the wilds, took the monster back to their home: a beautiful garden filled with flowers, butterflies and other wondrous things. There, the two of them live happily in harmony forevermore.

Frisk was almost embarrassed by their own feelings as Toriel read to them. It was a silly tale. Humans don’t live in gardens, they live in houses – even Frisk knew that. Regardless, there was something about Toriel's voice and the way she told the story that left them positively enchanted. Frisk was almost convinced the story was true – that the monster and their human friend were still up there somewhere, still living peacefully together. Perhaps it was the magic emanating from Toriel that enhanced the story, filling the air in the room with imagined colours, shapes and scenes. Her magic seemed to bring every little detail of the story to life, making it all the more wondrous to the child’s imagination. But above all, there was something strangely reassuring about the story – something that instilled a sense of perfect calm within Frisk.

They continued working through the collection of stories for a while longer. Before long, Frisk started to feel very tired. The warmth of the fire had left them feeling drowsy. The comfortable carpet they rested on reminded them of a bedsheet. Their head lulled as they felt themselves beginning to drift off, Toriel’s words becoming more and more distant.

Toriel spied the child dozing off. She looked down and checked the pages of the large book in her hands. They weren’t even one third of the way through the whole collection. She smiled. There was still more than enough material for a few more evenings – plenty more stories to tell. She deftly marked the page that they’d gotten to and closed the book shut.

“Looks like it’s time for bed,” she said softly.

She waited patiently for Frisk to get up by themselves. But the child didn’t move. They leant forward slightly, their head slumped on their chest. Their shoulders gently rose and fell in time with their slow breathing. The poor thing had fallen asleep right on the spot.

Toriel stood up from her chair, quickly straightening out her robe with her hands. She scooped up the sleeping child in both arms and carried them back to their room. She peeled back the covers with one hand and placed them on the bed. After tucking them in under the bedsheets, she paused for a few moments to look at them. She gently rested her hand on Frisk’s forehead, brushing the long fringe away from the sleeping child's eyes.

“Sleep tight, little one,” she whispered to them.

Switching off the light, she turned and left the child to rest, shutting the door very quietly behind her. The whole house was wrapped in silence. The only sound was a faint rustling of the leaves under the tree in the courtyard.


	4. Chapter 4

Frisk’s second day of their new life began with a rude awakening.

The child awoke with a start, gasping for breath. They sat up in bed, the pillow of the bed propped up against their back. The room was dark and utterly still – not a single movement stirred. There was no light outside their door and the house was deathly silent. From this, Frisk gathered they’d woken up in the middle of the Underground ‘night’.

The child rubbed their muggy, aching head as they tried to understand how they’d woken up in their own bed. The last thing they could remember was them sitting in the living room, listening to Toriel’s stories. They’d fallen asleep in front of the fire. They were able to gather that Toriel must’ve placed them in this bed by herself, where they must’ve continued to sleep for some time before they’d awoken.

Frisk had dreamt of some of the things in the stories Toriel had read to them. The monster and the human – dearest friends. The radiant sun, high in an endless, blue sky. The garden and the butterflies. But their dreams had been disturbed by another visitation from the King of Monsters. Emerging from the darkness, Asgore’s voice had forced them awake with its familiar, hauntingly desperate plea.

“You cannot give up!”

Frisk had woken up shortly after. All they wanted was to rest for a while longer – it was still far too early for them to be awake. They tried to go back to sleep, sneaking back under the covers and waiting for the night to envelop them. But all their efforts were to no avail. Whenever they thought they were on the cusp of sleep, Asgore’s booming voice would sound in their head with that endless, repeated plea, denying Frisk their peaceful sleep.

“You cannot give up!”

After a few attempts, and not without a sense of irony, they gave up on their efforts to sleep. All they’d wanted was a little bit of rest, but the King of Monsters (or his disembodied voice, at least) clearly had other plans for them.

They sat up in bed once more in the darkness, feeling more than a little bit grouchy. Their inability to switch off had left them feeling weary and irritable. Alone in the darkness of their room, they directed all their frustrations at the King as his words continued to run through their mind.  

“You cannot give up!”

‘I’m not giving up’ – that’s the child wanted to tell him. Choosing to stay here wasn’t ‘giving up’ – they were just doing things their way, for a change. They’d chosen this path – this was what they wanted. Why couldn’t Asgore simply let them be?

Frisk stared at the door at the end of the room. It was still dark outside, the light from the corridor still switched off. Frisk felt their lip quiver nervously. Though they could hardly be considered an ordinary child, given what they’d already been through, they still had a child's fear of the dark. And though they were starting to understand the world of the Underground, it remained a largely unfamiliar, alien place to them. For these reasons, they didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of leaving their room all by themselves. It would be better to wait until Toriel was awake and able to switch the lights on for them.

Frisk kept their eyes fixed eagerly on the space under the door, waiting for the lights to come on. How long would it be before she awoke? Would she wake up early, or sleep on until later? And how could the monsters living in the Underground even know when to wake up without the morning Sun?

The child curled up underneath the covers of the bed, dearly hoping they wouldn’t have to wait long for her to awaken and bring some light back to their Home.

It felt like forever before they finally sensed a movement stirring within the next room. After a few moments, the light outside the door flashed to life. Frisk heard the sound of Toriel’s footsteps as she shut the door to her own room and plodded down the hallway.

They got out of bed and switched the lamp on to provide some light for them to see. As soon as the light came on they flinched, shielding their eyes with their hands. The dull light from the lamp was deceptively harsh on their eyes after sitting in the dark for so long. The child practically had to strain to see what was in front of them.

As their eyes slowly began to adjust, they were immediately conscious of their appearance. They were still wearing their favourite striped t-shirt and shorts: the same clothes they’d worn and slept in since they’d arrived in the Underground two days ago. Frisk paused as they considered that thought. Had it really been two days already?

Even though the child didn’t have any problem with the idea of wearing the same clothes for at least a few more days, Toriel would almost certainly take them to task on it. Adults generally tended to frown on those sorts of habits. With that in mind, Frisk decided they would be best served to look for a change of clothes.

The child already knew there were no clothes in the locker where they’d found their hair comb. Instead, they eyed the next most likely place to look – the huge wardrobe by their bedside.

They approached the towering piece of furniture and pulled its heavy doors open. The wardrobe contained a few empty, lonely-looking shelves with no clothes to speak of. Aside from this, the child noticed a single, pull-out drawer at the bottom of the main space. Kneeling down, Frisk slowly pulled out the drawer and looked inside. But the drawer, too, was completely threadbare.

Frisk sighed. Why would Toriel keep a completely empty wardrobe in her house? It made no sense to the child.

Just as they decided to abandon their search, the child took a further look as they were about to shut the drawer. They noticed that the drawer was far deeper than they’d first realised. The wooden drawer handle was heavy in their hand, giving an impression of the size and depth of the compartment. Peering deeper inside, the child noticed a new detail: there was something tucked away at the very back of the drawer. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a set of neatly folded-up clothes, cut from some sort of purple fabric.

Taking a deep breath, Frisk leaned into the back of the drawer. They reached in as far as they could until they felt their fingers close on the soft fabric. With a final tug, they pulled the clothes out of the drawer. Standing up, they unfurled the mysterious garment and held it up in front of them. It was a long, purple robe, similar in design to the one Toriel wore but with some differences. The sides of the legs had angular partings, held together with interwoven, delicate-looking golden tassels. The delta rune was emblazoned on the front near the collar. It was a curious garment, both noble and simultaneously humble in appearance. It looked like the sort of outfit someone might wear at a ceremony.

And unlike the large robe Toriel wore, this outfit was just their size.

Without another thought, Frisk changed into the strange robe and brushed their hair just as they had the day before. After gathering up the bedsheets and quickly making their bed, they opened the door to their room. They expected Toriel would be in the living room, sitting in her chair with one of her books. But, to their surprise, Toriel was right outside the door. She was making her way back up the hallway to her own room.

“Ah, my child! Did you sleep well?” she pre-empted as she noticed the door swing open.

She froze, letting out a small, barely audible gasp when she saw Frisk standing in the doorway. A look of horror crossed her face as her eyes were drawn to the purple robe that the child was wearing.

Frisk felt a rush of nerves as they witnessed this sudden shift in Toriel’s mood. Beside her external emotional shift, they could also sense the crackle of the massive amount of nervous energy that her magic contained. The child gulped. They suspected they may have done something wrong, though they couldn’t tell what it could be.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Toriel was able to speak. Her voice was shaky but she seemed to have regained at least some of her usual composure.

“Y-You... don’t have any other clothes, do you?”

Frisk answered with an innocent shake of their head.

Toriel frowned in disapproval. She was silent for a few moments as she ran her eyes over the child, scrutinizing them from head to toe.

“This won’t do at all,” she huffed, clearly frustrated that she’d overlooked this detail in her planning. “I will wash your old clothes – and I shall have to remind myself to make some more clothes for you.”

Once she had finished examining Frisk, to the child’s surprise, Toriel’s mood took another curious turn. Her expression lightened almost immediately, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. To accompany this, the crackling of the magic in the air also dispersed in an instant. Frisk struggled to understand what’d brought about the sudden shift. It was clear from the way she carried herself that some measure of her disapproval remained. Nevertheless, her looks indicated that she now found something strangely endearing about the child’s appearance.

“Anyway, it is good that you are awake,” she smiled as she changed the topic. “I thought we could have a quick breakfast and then pick up where we left off yesterday. How does that sound?”

Frisk answered with an enthusiastic nod. Though their drowsiness from having woken up so early persisted, a spot of breakfast was just what they needed to help perk them up.

Turning on her heel, Toriel walked back down the hallway with Frisk following close behind her, and the two of them entered the living room together. The friendly space still showed some signs from the night before. The fireplace was empty, save for a small pile of whitish ash sitting in the base of the stony hearth. The magical fire from the night before had already been extinguished.

At Toriel's request, Frisk sat down at the table while she dipped into the kitchen momentarily. After a few minutes, she brought out a few plates of assorted cereals, pastries and other foods. She set them on the table, leaving the child to help themselves as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Frisk needed no invitation – they were starving. Having woken up early and lain in bed for so long, they'd been given plenty of time to build an appetite. Once they’d sat down, they reached across the table with outstretched arms, greedily piling up their plate with as much food as possible. Once their plate was stacked high with various sorts of food, they happily dug in.

As they tore through the feast they’d put together for themselves, the child’s eyes were drawn to a plate of pale-coloured pastries at the far end of the table. The peculiar-looking cakes had escaped Frisk’s attention as the child had been gathering up their food. Frisk leant across the table and picked one of the cakes off the plate. The pastry had a slightly gooey texture and stuck to the child's fingers. There was something curiously enticing about the cake’s greyish colour and its almost jelly-like softness. It was unlike any sort of food the child had ever encountered.

For a moment, Frisk debated whether they should just put it back. They had plenty of food already and there was no need to overstuff themselves. Eventually, though, the child’s curiosity won out. Frisk held the strange treat in front of them and, with a hint of lingering suspicion, gave it one final look. Then, they took a single bite.

It took a split second for the child to fully register the taste as it spread through their mouth. From there, the effects were almost immediate. The child felt their stomach churn as they were gripped with a sickly feeling. Frisk dropped the pastry on the table, gasping as a wave of nausea hit them. They steadied themselves with a hand on the table, for fear that they would fall out of their chair as the feeling worsened. They retched loudly and uncontrollably, choking on what little food they’d already swallowed.

Overhearing the ruckus from the other room, Toriel returned from the kitchen and rushed over to the ailing child.

“Oh dear,” she murmured to herself when she noticed the half-eaten pastry resting on the table next to Frisk’s plate. She stood by the child's side, giving them a gentle pat on the back. She then quickly moved to the kitchen, returning with a tall glass of water.

“Forgive me. I hadn’t intended to introduce you to snail croissants so soon,” she apologised as she set the glass on the table. “They have an… unusual taste for an untrained palate, but they make for a wholesome breakfast once one is used to them.” She gave the child’s back another gentle pat as she spoke, simultaneously wiping down the table with a cloth she held in her spare hand.

Trying their hardest to withstand the urge to gag, Frisk took the glass of water with both hands and forced themselves to drink. Though they struggled to hold the glass steady from their shivers of revulsion, the cold water seemed to help. They began to feel better after just a few swigs. Their shivers halted, though they couldn’t quite shake the unpleasant taste that lingered on in their mouth.

Once the child had settled down, Toriel sat down at the table with them and helped herself to some of the remaining food, including a healthy amount of the snail croissants. Frisk watched her eat for a moment. Their eyes fell to the pile of untouched food on their own plate. They felt a pit forming in their stomach as they stared emptily at the pile of food. After their nasty surprise, the child had entirely lost the will to eat anything more. Toriel looked the child in the eye, giving a small frown as she studied their face. Quick as lightning, she whipped a tissue from her pocket and gently wiped away the edge of the child’s mouth. Once done, she returned to her own breakfast.

When Toriel had finished eating and it was abundantly clear that the child wasn’t going to touch their food, she stood up and cleared the remnants of the breakfast from the table. The child remained seated, unsure what to do with themselves. They stared vacantly at the potted flowers at the end of the table.

Once Toriel had cleaned up, she joined the child at the table once more, sitting down in the chair next to them. Frisk hadn’t moved an inch in all that time and had to be shaken out of their befuddled state with an inquisitive nudge from Toriel.

After a brief refresher, the two of them returned to the business of the child’s studies. Just as the day before, they began their session with the core subjects before progressing to the more ‘bespoke’ areas of Toriel’s curriculum. Their first lesson of the day, as Toriel had structured, was Maths.

As they sat there, Frisk found it impossible to stop their mind from wandering. Granted, Maths had never been the most appealing subject to the child, even when it was Toriel who was teaching it. Regardless, in spite their general dislike of numbers and sums, they were trying their very hardest to pay attention to Toriel’s teachings. Every minute or so, Toriel’s voice would grow increasingly distant and indistinct as the child started to lose themselves in their own thoughts. Nor did the situation improve once they moved on to the next class: English. No matter what they did, Frisk found it impossible to focus as they were sucked into the quagmire of their own thoughts.

The pair were halfway through Biology when Frisk asked if they may be allowed outside, with the excuse that they needed a small break. Toriel gave a subdued nod in approval. She watched with interest as the child stood up sluggishly, dragging themselves to the main hallway and out the front door.

Frisk stepped outside the house, plonking themselves down on the step just outside the front door facing out to the courtyard. The child gazed contemplatively at the withered old tree in the courtyard whose branches had lost all their leaves. It was a glum, barren image that seemed reflective of their own mood. That said, they had to admit they were already beginning to feel a little bit better now that they were out of the house. Staring at the simple yet unassuming tree in the courtyard, the child could feel the fog in their head begin to clear.

As they had sat at that table with Toriel, Frisk had felt a deep sense of discomfort in their mind, something heavy and oppressive. They didn’t know what could cause these feelings. They wanted to believe it was the snail pastries that’d left them feeling a chill, though they suspected this wasn’t the case. They then considered the possibility that perhaps they were just tired and needed some rest – but this explanation was not satisfying to them either. If they needed more sleep, shouldn’t they feel some sort of urge to return to bed? Instead, they were under a strange compulsion to stay awake, as if there were some sort of vital task they needed to accomplish. Sleep was the furthest thing from their mind – what they felt instead was more of a bone-chilling weariness.

They remained outside for a few minutes longer before getting up and returning inside. Any longer and Toriel would wonder where they'd gotten to.

The lessons resumed once Frisk returned to their seat at the table. At first, things went smoothly – Frisk was more attentive and able to concentrate because of their little break. They were able to finish the Biology class without any complications. But, as the pair proceeded with the next lesson, Frisk was beset with a sense of dread as they began to feel a change inside their head. Like a storm rolling in across the hills, those familiar, thunderously-distracting feelings slowly returned. Within a few minutes, Frisk found themselves drifting off again, their mind caught in a distracting haze that stifled any attempt of theirs to focus on Toriel’s words.

The child’s distractions weren’t any fault of Toriel – of that much it was certain. If anything, her teaching had improved from the previous day. She was more confident in her speech and, surprisingly, seemed increasingly willing to push the child to tackle harder material. But her efforts were all for nothing – Frisk simply couldn’t concentrate on anything she said. Whatever went in one tiny ear simply came out of the other. Defeated but not wanting to cause any disruption to her plans for them, Frisk decided it might be best to feign attentiveness. They tried to look as invested in the lesson as possible, nodding absent-mindedly whenever Toriel asked them if they understood.

It wasn’t long before Toriel drew an end to the day's lessons. Frisk wasn’t entirely sure if they’d covered everything Toriel had wanted to do that day. They were just glad they didn’t have to pretend to listen to it anymore.

As the day before, Toriel allowed them outside once their lessons were over. Seizing the opportunity without a moment’s hesitation, Frisk dashed off through the front door. Rather than wait for their head to clear, they kept walking towards the far end of the courtyard, with the expectation that any extra distance they could put between the house and themselves would return them to normalcy quicker. So desperate were they to escape, their eyes trained on the footpath leading out of the courtyard, they didn’t even notice which way they were going.

A moment later, the child was brought back to their senses by a change in the air. They ground to a halt with a quick gasp, stumbling backwards a few steps in surprise. The footpath in front of them had abruptly disappeared. They were staring a dead end, or rather, the edge of a cliff. In their apparent haste to get away, they’d almost walked clean off the edge.

The child looked around curiously. They’d stumbled across some sort of balcony area. The raised area where they stood overlooked a huge cluster of houses and crenelated stone buildings that stretched off into the distance. In that instant, the child’s memories returned. This was the old city where the monsters had once lived before they relocated to the other end of the Underground, closer to the barrier that kept them locked away within the mountain.

The child quickly realised their mistake – they’d taken a wrong turn at the end of the lane, turning left rather than their usual right. Frisk had almost completely forgotten about the existence of this place, as close to their new Home as it was.

That was when Frisk recalled another one of their distant memories about this place. They looked to their left, their eyes drawn to the stone paving of the balcony. Sure enough, resting on the floor in the exact place they’d expected was an object that the child instantly recognised – the toy knife.

They walked over and picked it up off the ground, examining it closely. It was a curious object – one that Frisk had encountered more than once before on their journey. How such an unusual toy had ended up in the Ruins remained a source of mystery to the child – but the knife’s presence here was deeply troubling to them. It didn’t seem right to leave such a dangerous-looking weapon laying around out in the open, even if it was merely a toy replica of the real thing.

Frisk decided they would do exactly as they had done previously. They carefully pocketed the toy knife. Something told them it would be much safer in their possession. After all, they had no use for a weapon, not even a toy replica of one. In keeping hold of it, they could ensure that it would not be used for harm by anyone, human or monster, that harboured a more nefarious purpose.

Reaching down, they left the wooden stick they were already carrying with them on the ground in its place. A stick was much less dangerous, anyway.

With the weapon in tow, the child double-backed on themselves and found their way back to the track that lead through the Ruins. As they’d done the day before, they roamed through the halls in search of something to amuse themselves. Amazingly, it seemed the Ruins were even quieter than the previous day. Little had changed from the day before – none of the puzzles had been moved or altered, nor was there any sign of anyone having been here at all. The only slight difference they noticed was a thin layer of emerald-coloured moss that’d begun to grow on the walls. If it weren’t for this small sign of life, Frisk might have believed that this place was caught in some kind of hermetically-sealed vacuum.

As the child walked, they thought of Toriel. Frisk already knew that she was intent on keeping them here in the Ruins as a means of ensuring their safety from the world beyond the Ruins – the outside world. Indeed, their safety was something she would go through perplexing lengths to try to secure.

Last time they’d wound up here in their previous timeline, Frisk had found the Ruins to be a stifling and uncomfortable place. Toriel had expected the child to be accepting of their new Home and ready to start a new life with her as their parent, of sorts. But their urge to leave the confines of the Ruins had quickly overpowered them, even though it’d meant disobeying her wishes. Frisk could still recall the shocked look she'd given them when they’d asked how to leave the Ruins. But as much as her devastated reaction had hurt the child, they’d proceeded with their plan to escape her clutches.

Even now, Frisk couldn’t judge how sincere their feelings at the time had been – or if they’d even wanted to leave at all. They could only recall the action they’d taken, impassionate but clear, as if their actions had been directed by some invisible hand.

They remembered how she'd rushed off, determined to stop them from escaping. She’d planned to collapse the basement tunnels under her house – the only way out of the Ruins. Was it possible that she might try something like that again, even if they exhibited no outward signs of wanting to leave her? She might choose to do it as a precaution, even if it would trap her within the Ruins forever with them. Neither of them would be able to leave. Was that a sacrifice she was willing to make?

They decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. This was a whole new timeline – what happened in the last one has no bearings on what happens here, the child insisted to themselves, mostly out of self-comfort. Besides, would it even matter if she **were** to go through with such a plan? They’d already decided they were going to stay here with her. Though they’d passed up an offer of a new life in the last timeline, this time they were determined to make it work. To Frisk, they considered it an integral part of growing up. They needed to be able to make big decisions about what they treasured most. So they’d made their decision.

Frisk snapped out of their musing and looked around. Having gotten so lost in thought, they hadn’t realised they’d already reached the same hall where they’d encountered the Froggits from the day before.

Frisk had expected a repeat encounter with the taciturn monsters and, with the intention of avoiding another set of awkward silences, had spent some time that morning preparing a whole list of conversation topics that might appeal to frogs. It’d been a tough job but they were nevertheless excited to have another try at winning the approvals of the group of frog monsters. However, to the child’s surprise, their amphibious friends were nowhere to be seen. The large hall was entirely empty and unnervingly quiet, with no signs of the Froggits ever having been here.

It was then Frisk realised that they hadn’t encountered a single monster throughout their entire trek back through the Ruins.

The child was perplexed. ‘Why was the place so empty? Where have all the monsters gotten to?’ they wondered silently. Had they all gone into hiding, fearful of the one human that’d made the ancient place their home?

Disappointed, Frisk decided they would return Home. It seemed inconceivable to them that the monsters living here could have just disappeared overnight without a trace. But perhaps, given a bit more time, they would decide to show themselves. With a downcast step, they turned and started on their way back towards Home.

* * *

 

When they finally got back, to their surprise, they found Toriel standing outside on the step leading up to Home. She was wearing a troubled expression, though her mood lightened immediately when she noticed the child skipping up the path through the courtyard.

“Ah, my child! I was about to go looking for you,” she said with a small sigh of relief. “Thank goodness you have returned. Perhaps we can find something for you to do inside?”

Frisk was puzzled by Toriel's suggestion. They hadn’t been gone long at all and she'd allowed them to play outside for much longer the previous day. Even by her standards, this struck them as a touch overprotective. But since they’d been unable to find anything to do outside, the child saw no reason to protest.

Taking the child’s hand, Toriel quickly ushered them back into the house. Once they were inside, she shut and bolted the door behind her. She lingered by the door a while longer, lifting the blinders and peering out through the window. Her eyes were heavy with suspicion as she surveyed the courtyard outside.

While she was doing this, Frisk went and fetched the set of pencils Toriel had given them from their room. They returned to the living room and sat down at the big table, waiting patiently. Eventually, Toriel wandered in. Noticing the pencils on the table, she registered the child’s intention and smiled agreeably. Of course, she was more than happy to provide some extra paper, if that was what they wished. She wandered off momentarily, returning with a small stack of sheets for them to use. She gave the child an affectionate pat on the head and left them to their own devices, strolling back up the corridor towards her own room.

Now alone, Frisk returned to their doodling as they’d done the previous day. Pencil in hand, they felt immediately at ease, a sense of calm washing over them. They were content to let the time fly by, letting their mind wander as they sketched endless shapes and forms.

When they came to, they were greeted with a startling sight. The table in front of them was strewn with bits of scribbled-on paper. To their amazement, every single sheet from the stack Toriel had provided them with had been used up. The pencil they were still holding was whittled all the way down to the nub.

Frisk felt a brief moment of uncertainty. How long had they been drawing for? It seemed they’d completely lost track of time while drawing – though this was hardly a difficult thing to do in a place with no clocks, they were quick to remind themselves. As they considered this, they caught a glimpse of one of their own drawings – one of many they’d churned out in their distracted state.

Frisk felt the pencil drop from their fingers, a look of shock on their face. Each sheet of paper was covered with depictions of familiar figures: all people the child had met in the Underground. Sans, Undyne, Mettaton, Alphys. Even Asgore made an appearance in one of the drawings, wearing his royal armour and armed with his giant spear with its recognisable flower emblem.

To the child’s side lay a separate pile of paper – another set of drawings. Frisk searched through the pile with a sense of dread. These drawings were different. They were sketches not of people, but of locations. It took a moment for Frisk to recognise with shock that these were all places they themselves recognised – all locations they’d passed through in the previous timeline. The big tree from Snowdin town centre, the towering, mechanical CORE residing in Hotland and Asgore’s throne room with its ornate stained glass windows. The three distinct locations were all on full display on the sheets, all reconstructed in sharp detail from the child's memory.

Frisk stared at the drawings, aghast. How had they drawn all of this without even being aware of it? Had they even been in control of themselves as they'd sat there, pencil in hand, churning out drawing after drawing of their deepest thoughts?

Their fretful eyes darted from picture to picture, portrait to portrait. To the child, the drawings of their friends almost seemed to have a life of their own – their crudely drawn forms stared back at Frisk, reaching out from the paper. Their glances were almost accusatory in nature, as if they were questioning the child’s choices and decisions that’d led them to this point. Or was this simply their imagination?

That was when they spotted another drawing they hadn’t noticed – it was tucked away under another sheet at the side of the table. The child picked it up. It was a drawing of Papyrus – Sans’ skeletal brother. He wore a friendly but very typically ‘Papyrus’ expression with his paradoxically bright eye sockets and wide, toothy grin.

The child felt their nerves lighten as they studied the picture. Papyrus had always had that effect on them. The skeleton’s happy-go-lucky positivity was undoubtaly Frisk’s favourite trait of his. His friendly nature and boundless optimism – it was all present in their drawing, and seemed strong enough to escape the confines of the paper, permeating its surroundings. The child could feel it too, just from looking at it.

As they studied Papyrus’ expression, Frisk tried to imagine what his pencilled version might say. One thought sprang to mind with startling speed:

“WOWIE! I'M MADE OF PENCIL LEAD!”

A happy grin snuck onto the child's face. They giggled quietly to themselves as they considered the idea – they could practically hear him saying such a thing in this typical impassioned, boisterous voice, commanding the attention of any who might listen. As Frisk considered this, they wondered if the quirky ‘skelebro’ might be more of a caricature of himself than their own drawing.

Hearing a noise, they looked over their shoulder at the long corridor at the far end of the room. They snapped back to the table in a state of panic – it was Toriel. She’d left her room and was approaching from further down the corridor. The child shuddered. They knew they'd be in serious trouble if she were to discover these drawings.

They hastily gathered up all the incriminating bits of paper up in their arms and got up from their chair. They dashed out of the living room and back towards their own bedroom with the drawings in tow, passing Toriel in the hallway. She stood in place as the child ran past her, looking on with a perplexed expression. Frisk bolted into their room, hastily shutting the door behind them.

* * *

 

In the evening, the two of them reconvened in the living room. They sat together in front of the gentle heat of the freshly-reignited fireplace – Toriel in her armchair and Frisk on the carpet by the fireside. She fetched the book of stories from the bookshelf and they carried on where they’d left off from the night before. Frisk sat on the carpet, legs crossed, and listened intently to each of the new stories that Toriel told.

It was only after the first two stories when Frisk realised that something was different. Somehow, they weren’t making the same connection as they’d felt the night before. The stories were nowhere near as engrossing as the ones Toriel had read to them previously. Regardless, Frisk kept listening in hope that one of these new stories might sweep them off their feet in the same way they'd felt that night. But with each story that Toriel told, the child felt a new sense of disappointment. Not a single story managed to capture their imagination in the same way as before.

Toriel’s magic filled the air as she read to them, granting shape and life to the stories she told. But even this magic of hers no longer seemed to affect them in the way it’d once done – they were numb to any possible sense of enchantment or awe. The night's set of fairy tales had left them cold and no amount of magic would be able to change that. The whole experience was sorely dissatisfying to the child.

They only got through a handful more stories when Frisk decided to call it a night. Try as they might to endure the rest of the tales, they simply weren’t feeling themselves. They stood up, wished Toriel goodnight and wandered out to the hallway in the direction of their bedroom.

But they did not go to bed straight away. Instead, they stopped when they reached the entrance of the house. They looked behind them to check that they were out of Toriel's sight. Then, looking to steady themselves, they placed a hand on one of the wooden banisters next to them. They gazed at the stairwell leading down into the depth of the basement.

The child could not recall how long they remained standing there. The whole world seemed to flicker for a split second. The next thing they knew, they had moved. Frisk was sat at the top of the stairs, their gaze still fixed on the darkness of the basement. They were hunched over with their elbows planted on their knees, their head resting in their hands.

What’d led them to decide to sit here they could not recall, nor did they spend any thought considering it. But they felt no impulse to move from their spot, even though they knew that Toriel would likely scold them for loitering here. After all, what lay at the bottom of those stairs wasn’t just some dingy, old basement. Its winding passageway was also the only way out of the Ruins.

Frisk knew exactly what waited at the end of that basement tunnel. Beyond the big door at the very end of the tunnel lay a snowy land – a place where a certain skeleton might already be anticipating their arrival. As the child’s memories of their past journey began to resurface, they held the name in their mind: Snowdin.

The child reminisced of all the things they’d seen and experienced when they’d first passed through the land of Snowdin. Sans and his brother, Papyrus. The boundless snow and the playful dogs. The quaint, little town nestled amongst the trees and the bustle of Grillby’s bar. The smell of the pine leaves that filled the air. The sound of rushing water flowing downstream through the hills.

As they sat on that stair, all alone in what were certainly the deepest depths of the Underground, they couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of yearning. Part of them wanted to disregard the rush of memories and emotions they felt. They’d made their choice to stay with Toriel – they hadn’t forgotten that. And yet, their memories of that place were so fond, their recollections so vivid and enticing.

The more they dwelled on their memories of the snowy land, the more they felt an urge to return. Toriel would never allow it, of course. Were they to attempt to leave the Ruins, she would do everything in her power to stop them. But to take themselves back to that place would require only one thing: reaching the end of that basement passageway.

The child looked down at their feet, running the back of their fingers over the soft fabric of the purple robe they wore. In the back of their mind, a question presented itself – a question they couldn’t muster the strength to answer:

‘Did I make the right choice?’

As they were locked in deep thought, Toriel appeared across the way from the living room. She instantly spotted the child on the other side of the banisters. A nervous look crossed her face.

“My child, please don’t sit on those stairs,” Toriel urged uncomfortably. “It’s getting late. You should really be in bed right now.”

The child broke away from their thoughts. They knew she was right. It’d been an unexpectedly long day and they truly _were_ tired. They didn’t want to risk falling asleep on the spot again, especially when sitting at the top of a set of stairs. Nodding sleepily, the absent-minded Frisk picked themselves up and slinked away in the direction of their room.

Toriel watched them for a moment, her gaze filled with concern. She lingered a few moments longer before returning to the living room to put out the fireplace. Once done, she made sure all the lights in the house were switched off and retired to bed, ushering in the stillness of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The child awoke to the sound of a gentle knocking on their door. It was still dark in the room, though they could see a few rays of dull light shining through the crack under the door at the end of the bed. They gathered it was already morning, and that they had overslept. They could not recall what they’d dreamt of in the night, if anything, or if they had even slept at all. The morning had crept up on them suddenly and unexpectedly, like a snake slithering through the grass as it stalks its prey.

The knocking sound repeated, each subsequent knock slightly sharper than the last, before being joined by a voice.

“Time to get up!” Toriel beckoned from outside the room. She’d been standing outside the child’s door for the past minute or so, trying to coax them out of bed, to little success. She waited for a brief moment longer, holding out hope for a response from the slumbering child. When it became evident that she would need to wait a while longer, she strutted off down the hallway to attend to her morning duties.

Frisk heard the sound of her footsteps drift off down the corridor. The sound of that gentle plod provoked a powerful response in the child. Though they were comfortably ensconced in bed, they felt an immediate and overpowering urge to follow her, wherever she was headed. To that end, they decided that they shouldn’t waste any more time in preparing for the day ahead.

Slowly and deliberately, Frisk tried to rise from their bed and, to their surprise, they found that they couldn’t. They fell backwards onto the mattress as they were half-way up, the bed giving a loud creak as they landed flat on their back.

Frisk placed a hand to their forehead. They felt terrible. Their whole body was beset with a horribly dreary feeling, their little limbs weighed down like a ton of bricks. Looking up at the ceiling from their bed, it felt like the entire room was spinning – almost as if the delicate balance of gravity had been disrupted.

They lay there for a moment, stunned. The mere act of sitting up had felt like a massive physical exertion. Since when had it become such a challenge to get out of bed?

It took the child no less than three more arduous attempts to lift themselves out of bed. By the time they were finally up, their desire to follow after Toriel had become all the more potent. Without even pausing to turn the lamp on, they rushed forward to grab the door handle and stumbled clumsily out of their room and down the corridor.

The child stumbled into the living room. Toriel was waiting for them in there, though she didn’t notice them enter. She had her back turned to them as she examined the contents of her bookshelf.

Immediately, Frisk’s eyes were drawn to the far end of the room. Just like the day before, the dining table was set and decorated with a variety of different foods. Toriel had clearly eaten breakfast some time ago. Frisk, on the other hand, was ravenous. The sight of the food spread out on the tablecloth was almost enough to make them drool. Instinctively, they drifted hungrily towards the table.

Toriel spotted the child as they crossed the room. She took one look at them and frowned. As Frisk was about to sit down at the table, she grabbed their shoulder and took them to one side. With a hard expression on her face, she knelt in front of them and carefully straightened out the robe they wore, which was scruffy and full of creases. She then ran her hands through the child’s matted locks of hair, brushing out any untidy-looking knots. She grumbled quietly to herself while she worked, though Frisk couldn’t pick up what she said.

Once she was done, she released the scruffy child’s shoulder and let them loose. Frisk returned to the table immediately. Their stomach was rumbling sharply and they were desperate to eat. They grabbed entire handfuls of food from the plates and greedily crammed as much as they could into the mouth.

Once they'd eaten as much as they could manage, they lay back, languishing in the wooden chair. The food had filled a gap, but it had not managed to revive their spirits. The intensity of their gnawing hunger had dimmed and faded, but little else had been achieved.

Once Toriel had noticed that they'd finished eating, the child rose from their seat as she swooped in to clear the table. Frisk stood to the side sheepishly and watched her work. She moved with such practiced precision, scooping up plates and cutlery and jugs in her powerful arms with a comfortable but strangely unsettling ease. It was the sort of movement made by someone who had performed those same actions many, many times before. It was almost mechanical – a little bit _too_ perfect. The child rubbed their eyes.

It wasn’t long before Toriel was finished with the housework. Together, they sat down at the freshly-cleared table for their second day of lessons.

It was here that the problems began to arise.

Toriel had wanted to start the session with a quick recap of what they’d covered the day before. After a few refresher questions, however, it became clear that the child had forgotten almost everything they’d covered in the previous day’s session. They spent most of their lessons backtracking over the previous day's material, much to the displeasure of Toriel. Privately, she wondered how it was possible for a child to be so forgetful.

Worse still was the child’s seeming inability to maintain focus. Though she exercised great patience in revisiting what they'd already covered, she had no way of knowing if her lessons were sinking in. The child seemed distracted and absent the whole time she spoke. Whenever she rebuked them, they would snap to attention for a moment before lapsing back into their prior state mere moments later, the same glazed expression on their face the whole time. Toriel was at a loss – she had no idea how to get the unruly child to concentrate.

They ended the day's lessons earlier than usual. Toriel, increasingly worried about her little guest’s wellbeing, asked if they felt ill. Frisk nodded uneasily.

She placed a hand on the child’s forehead for a few seconds. Her brow contorted in a small frown as she seemed to focus intently. After a few moments, she removed her hand.

“Peculiar. You’re not running a fever, but I think I have something that might help.” She turned to walk back towards her room. “Stay here for just a moment,” she instructed.

However, the child had other plans. As Toriel strutted off in the direction of her room, Frisk ran out in front of her, coming to a stop in the hallway by the stairwell. Blocking her way, they motioned to the front door, pleading to be let outside.

Toriel was taken aback by the child’s unusually obstinate display. Upon understanding the nature of their request, her immediate reaction was one of resistance. The child was clearly unwell. Her instincts told her that a sick child was best kept indoors, and should not be allowed to wander outside until they are better. However, she could see the sense of desperation on the child’s face, which, in turn, exposed concerns of her own. Admittedly, she had no idea what the problem could be, and she was loath to leave a child in distress. Whichever way she looked at it, it was a perplexing situation.

Perhaps it was simply a human thing? If so, maybe it would be best to put her trust in the child – just this once? Besides, the day’s lessons had achieved very little, and they would likely benefit more from some playtime.

After some more thought, she reluctantly gave in to Frisk’s request.

“Very well. However, I want you to stay close to Home,” she insisted firmly. “Do not go far.”

No sooner had she given her warning, the child was already on the move. Frisk bolted out of the front door and ran through the courtyard, the long robe they wore brushing their ankles. As they passed the withered old tree, they heard Toriel’s voice behind them.

“Do not be gone long!” she called out after them. “I won’t have you catching your death out there!”

The child kept running, undaunted. Now that they were outside, they were already beginning to feel better. Frisk could feel the energy seeping back into their bones as they left the courtyard. Somehow, simply being free of the confines of Toriel's home had revitalized them. Any trace of the stifling feeling that'd weighed them down, the same feeling they’d felt the previous day, was suddenly gone. Frisk struggled to understand what these feelings could signify, and why they only seemed to feel this way when at Home. There was something about the atmosphere of that house that just felt wrong to them – something they found deeply discomforting. It was almost as if Toriel's influence was interfering with their own energies, leaving them feeling vulnerable and strangely isolated. There was a conflict – something they feared couldn’t be reconciled. The child, not wanting to scare themselves, quickly set aside these worrying thoughts.

In any case, their sole aim had been to get out of the house. Now that they were outside, they had no idea what they should do to pass the time. The child concentrated as they cast their mind back to their previous adventures in the Ruins, trying to recall what they had uncovered.

That’s when they suddenly remembered – the spider bake sale! They'd almost completely forgotten about the curious little market that'd set up shop within the Ruins' depths. Even though Frisk wasn’t particularly hungry after their substantial breakfast, it would be fun to pay the strange market a quick visit. Perhaps they could buy something and hide it somewhere in their room to save it for later? They had some gold pieces they'd obtained from their previous encounters with the monsters. If they were lucky, Toriel might even decide to give them an allowance. In any case, it would be exciting to discover whatever curiosities that the market had to offer. There was even a chance it could attract some of the local monsters for the child to meet.

Frisk recalled that the market was located in the central part of the Ruin's tunnels. It was a little bit further out than Toriel had wanted them to go, but they weren’t concerned about that. They would go there, buy something and then head back home. She wouldn’t need to know a thing.

Full of wondrous expectation, Frisk set off down the path leading into the depths of the ruins.

* * *

 

It was some time later that the child drew close to their destination. The journey to this section of the Ruins had been uneventful. As expected, they had encountered no monsters on their way. Regardless, they were full of hope for what the market might bring. Perhaps this could be the chance for the child to make some new friends.

Reaching a fork in the path, the child took a left turn into a familiar-looking room.

Immediately, the smile on the child’s face waned. Their hopes were dashed. The chamber where the market had once been was completely empty. Not a single stall, merchant or patron were to be found. There were no cobwebs or crumbs – not a single trace of the spiders ever having set up shop here. The entire room had been picked clean.

Frisk was sorely disappointed. They hadn’t considered the possibility that the spiders were part of a _travelling_ market, though it was uncertain how they were able to come and go freely. Perhaps they’d discovered some secret means of entering and exiting the Ruins by themselves. At the very least, a possibility remained that they might choose to return. Perhaps Frisk would come back to this spot one day and find the market here, as if it’d never left.

Would they be back?

Dejected, the child turned and headed back the way they came. They weren’t ready to go back to Toriel just yet. They would have to find something else to do.

As they retraced their steps to the chamber from which they'd just passed through, however, they were greeted by a startling sight. The child froze in place, stifling a gasp of surprise with their hand. Before their eyes, right in front of them and oblivious to their presence, there was a monster.

The creature before them was a ‘Whimsum’ –  a type of monster Frisk recognised from numerous encounters in their previous timeline. It hovered in the air high above them, drifting along like a balloon while its little wings flapped furiously to keep it aloft. While they could tell it was friendly, Frisk knew how sensitive these creatures were by nature. This one was no different: its movements were sudden and jittery, its slightly hunched appearance indicative of its anxious temperament. The creature was a bundle of nerves.

Frisk tiptoed slowly towards the wary-looking Whimsum. They knew they risked frightening it away if they were to make any sudden movements or loud noises. The monster would be startled by even the most straightforward actions. Once they were close, Frisk made their presence known by calling out to the fairy monster, while simultaneously straining to keep their voice as quiet as possible.

It was no good. The moment they uttered a single word, the cowardly creature spun around in surprise. Seeing the child standing there, it gave an alarmed cry and darted away in the direction of the next room. In the blink of an eye, the creature had fled and was gone.

Frisk frowned in disappointment. Between Whimsums and Froggits, the monsters here weren’t much for company. Many of the monsters the child had met in the Underground were friendly, personable and easy to strike up a conversation with. The inhabitants of the Ruins, on the other hand, had clearly been sheltered from the rest of the Underground for too long, and were considerably less comfortable with the presence of humans – Toriel being the notable exception. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have bothered Frisk – in fact, they would have relished the challenge of befriending these apprehensive creatures – but it didn’t help that they all seemed to have gone into hiding. Not a single monster seemed willing to show themselves. Even that ghost, Napstablook, was nowhere to be found. The situation was becoming more and more dire.

With no prospect of meeting another monster, Frisk reluctantly turned to go back the way they’d came. They would return to Toriel and their all-too-familiar new home. They would find something to do on their own, seeing as there was no-one they could play with.

The child was halfway down the path leading back when they stopped. Somewhere in the recesses of their mind, they could hear a voice speaking to them.

_What? Are you really going be defeated so easily?_

Frisk turned around, looking down the hallway where the creature had fled to. They remained still for a few moments, their eyes trained on the long, winding passage that led deeper into the Ruins.

No – they weren’t going to give up, they decided. This was their home now. They couldn’t let one little setback ruin all of their fun. They would win the fleeting creature's acceptance, even if it took some perseverance. With this objective in mind, the child reversed course, skipping down the path leading towards where the monster had fled to.

Frisk found the Whimsum in the next chamber, floating in the air in the centre of the room. It jittered nervously to-and-fro, seemingly unsure what to do with itself. It appeared that the timid monster was still spooked from its surprise encounter just moments ago. The child approached it from behind once more, only this time they were less concerned about the sound of their own footsteps.

The creature peered over its shoulder as Frisk got close. Realising that the child had followed it, it released another shrill cry and fluttered away into one of the adjacent chambers. But Frisk was not deterred. They gave chase, determined to catch the fleeing monster. The Whimsum, noticing it was being followed, flapped its tiny wings even harder as it tried to escape its young pursuer.

Before long, the pair found themselves locked into an extended game of chase, stretching through each of the Ruins' connecting rooms. They ran from hallway to hallway, chamber to chamber – the fairy monster desperate to get away and the human child following just behind in close pursuit.

Frisk laughed happily. They were having the time of their life. After what’d seemed like so long without contact with anyone other than Toriel, it was such a joy to finally interact with another monster. Now that they'd made a new friend, they suddenly felt much less lonely. Any feelings of malady from earlier that day had dissipated. They fully embraced the thrill of the chase, running as fast as they could manage as they tried to catch the fairy creature. The long robe they wore would occasionally catch under their feet as they ran, threatening to trip them up at any moment.

However, they couldn’t help but think of Toriel. Despite their occupied state, her warnings about them staying safe and not going too deep into the Ruins echoed through their mind. Frisk did all they could to block them out. They were having fun, and they weren’t the least bit worried about hurting themselves. Toriel possessed healing magic – she could very easily mend any cuts or scrapes they might sustain, so long as they could concoct a convincing excuse as to how they got them.

If anything, they were more concerned for the wellbeing of their playmate. The Whimsum was becoming increasingly agitated from being chased around so much. Each time the creature saw Frisk drawing closer, it seemed to grow more and more panicked. The longer their game went on, the more worked-up the creature got. At the point where they were at now, the poor monster appeared to be reaching some kind of critical mass of fright.

A small pang of concern coursed through the child’s heart. Frisk hadn’t meant to cause the monster such distress – it was only a game they were playing, after all. They decided not to think about it too much.

Eventually, the pair found themselves rushing through a familiar, dimly-lit room. Leaping down a flight of stairs with reckless abandon, the child managed to close the distance between themselves and the monster. In a fit of fright, the Whimsum immediately put on a burst of speed, sailing around a corridor and out of the child's sight. Unwilling to let the creature escape their grasp, Frisk took a deep breath and quickened their pace. They followed in hot pursuit, rounding the corner into the next room.

The child ground to a halt. They took quickly note of their surroundings and immediately realised where they were. They were standing in a small, familiar-looking chamber with a well-maintained patch of golden flowers in the centre of the room. A beam of light filtered down from high above them, causing the green grass and yellow flowers to glimmer slightly.

This was the room they’d first woken up after their reset – the very same room where they had fallen down. Strangely, all of this running around had led them back to square one.

Stranger yet, it quickly became apparent to them that there was no-one else here. The Whimsum they'd been chasing was nowhere to be seen. They were suddenly alone.

Frisk looked around the closed-off interior of the chamber with some puzzlement. They knew that this was the deepest part of the Ruins – a dead end. The only way in and out of this chamber was the path from where they’d entered. The Whimsum was in here somewhere – they were certain of it.

And so, the game had changed from one of chase to one of hide-and-seek. The child, still in a relentlessly energetic mood, sought to uncover the fairy-like creature's hiding place. Surely, their new playmate couldn’t have gone far.

While considering where the creature may have gotten to, they scoped out the pillars that circled the perimeter of the room. They were large and wreathed in thick coils of ivy that'd been allowed to grow undisturbed for countless years. Frisk grinned. Those pillars would make for a good hiding location. The Whimsum was almost certainly cowering behind one of them.

Doing their best to muffle their footsteps, they ran over to the pillar closest to them. They quickly peered behind it, expecting the Whimsum to emerge from its hiding place. But strangely, the monster was not hiding there.

Somewhere behind them, they heard a rustling sound. They spun around, expecting to find the Whimsum frantically scurrying about. But, to their surprise, there was nothing there. The yellow flowers stared back at the child unassumingly, their golden heads swaying in the gentle breeze emanating from the top of the chamber. The room was as quiet and empty as it'd ever been.

Not dissuaded, the child returned to the task of finding the hiding monster. There were a total of four pillars in the room. Surely, the Whimsum had to be hiding behind one of them.

They eyed another towering pillar at the far end of the room. Once again, they approached speedily, while being careful to not make too much noise. As they were about to peer behind the second pillar, they stopped and listened. The rustling sound from earlier repeated itself. It lasted longer this time, and was followed by an unusual, chittering noise. Then, there was silence.

Frisk turned around. Once again, the room appeared to be completely empty. The sound they’d heard had come from the patch of flowers in the centre of the room. Frisk eyed their golden heads with a childish inquisitiveness. Surely that couldn’t be where the Whimsum was hiding?

The child’s curiosity piqued, they abandoned the pillar. Slowly and cautiously, they wandered closer to the flower patch. As they got within a few feet of the patch, they could detect a small movement somewhere within the mass of golden flowers. The child squinted. Perhaps there _was_ something in there.

They were a few steps away from the flower patch when their concentration was broken by a voice echoing through the chamber.

“My child?”

Frisk immediately recognised the voice to be Toriel’s. They spun around, finding her standing by the entrance. She looked alarmed, as if she'd stumbled across an unwelcome sight.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked as she rushed towards the flower patch where the child stood. Frisk stayed rooted to the spot as she approached. Now she was closer, they could see her more clearly. To their surprise, her look was one of deep disapproval. She towered over the child, glowered at them reproachfully. Aside from her manner, her displeasure was also evident in the feel of her magic - it coiled and throbbed, agitating the air around her and washed over the child in harsh, unsettling waves. “Just what do you think you are doing here?” she demanded.

Frisk, unsure how to respond, tentatively remained silent. Their natural shyness often led them to keep quiet, even in situations where they knew it would be better to speak up. Furthermore, they struggled to understand what had gone wrong, or why Toriel appeared so agitated. But their hesitation was met with a distinctly unimpressed ‘harumph’ from Toriel.

“I am disappointed in you,” she declared, her stern expression not budging an inch. “I asked you to stay close to our Home. I thought I would be able to trust you. Instead, I find you here, at the other end of the Ruins. Not only did you disobey me, you also saw fit to antagonize one of the residents, or so I am told.”

Frisk felt their jaw slacken in disbelief. They had no idea how they’d managed to land themselves in trouble with her – they’d only been trying to have a bit of fun playing in the Ruins. Desperate to absolve themselves of blame, they nervously stammered an excuse.

_Frisk tries to explain that they weren't trying to scare Whimsum – they were only trying to speak to it._

Toriel shook her head dismissively. It was clear she was having none of it. She looked down at Frisk, her expression severe.

“If, for whatever reason, a monster does not wish to speak to you, then you should leave them be. Be respectful of the wishes of others: that is the lesson you have learnt today,” she chided them, underlining her last point with a swish of her finger. “Now, come with me.”

With a surprising speed, she reached forward and seized the child by the wrist. Immediately, Frisk winced from her firm grip. She was remarkably strong. They looked up at her in astonishment. Her expression was resolute and composed, but masked a copious amount of motherly anxiety.

Without another word, she turned and made her way back down the tunnel, dragging the child behind her. She moved at a quickened pace that denoted a sense of urgency. For such a big monster, she was remarkably light on her feet. Frisk stumbled clumsily after her. To their amazement, they were struggling to keep up with her. The child almost wanted to dig their heels into the ground to slow her pace but they knew they wouldn’t be able to contend with her great strength. It was like trying to stop a charging bull. Similarly, there were powerless to free themselves from her vice-like grip.

The unlikely pair made their way home – Toriel marching on ahead, her gaze shooting from left to right as they went, and Frisk desperately trying to keep up with her. On and on they went through the connecting halls, but not once did she slow down or relax her grip. The child found themselves helplessly chasing after her, desperate to avoid tripping over themselves. All the while, Frisk was filled with confused alarm at her bewildering sense of urgency. Why were they running so fast? It was almost as if they were being stalked by something monstrous – something they were desperate to outrun. In the back of their mind, Frisk began to understand what the terrified Whimsum may have felt like as it was being chased.

Eventually, the ordeal became unbearable to Frisk. They wanted to cry out to Toriel to stop. The longer they were forced to follow her, the more distressed Frisk became. Their wrist was beginning to hurt from where she gripped them. The child felt tears building up in their eyes. Why was she acting this way? Why wouldn’t she just let them go?

As if in answer to their silent plea, she spoke to them. Her voice was softer than before, but maintained a cautious edge.

“You should understand that I am doing this for your safety,” she spelled out as they walked, maintaining her tight grip on the child’s wrist. “You are still young. The Underground is a perilous place for the uninitiated. There are dangers in these ruins that you are not aware of.” She drew the child closer, fixing them with a determined look of her own. “But do not fear – I will not allow you to come to harm,” she solemnly swore as they kept moving.

It was some time later that they arrived back at their home. The withered old tree in the courtyard, the stalwart protector, silently greeted them as they rushed past. Toriel strode up to the front door with the child in tow, and she quickly led them inside. Once they were safely inside the house, she finally let go of them. The child drew their arm back, nursing their wrist tenderly. It was sore and slightly reddened, to the point where they were worried it might swell. Their legs ached from the long, unbroken journey back. Toriel, however, seemed less affected.

“We should avoid a repeat of this in the future,” she announced suddenly. “From now on, until I decide otherwise, you will not leave this house without my permission.” She gave a weary stretch, perhaps showing signs of fatigue from all the running around, and ambled slowly towards the living room. Before entering the room, she turned towards the child who was still lingering in the hallway. “Now, if you will join me, I thought we could…”

Before she could finish what she was saying, the child bolted in the other direction. They ran down the hallway and dashed into their room, the door slamming shut behind them. Toriel blinked, startled. Unsure how to react, she thought it best to occupy herself with a task. She returned to the living room with a plan to settle down with a book for an hour or so, before starting preparations for their evening meal.

* * *

 

In the child’s room, all of the lights were switched off. Everything was shrouded in darkness and nothing moved. Frisk lay on the bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling blankly. They felt sick. Their head was spinning. They kept their sore wrist propped up on the duvet, the cool air of the room helping to soothe the ache.

Though they had no idea what the time was, they suspected it was well into the evening. They hadn’t left their room since they’d gotten back, nor had they gone to dinner – but they did not feel hungry. All they felt was a vast hollowness inside their chest, gnawing at their bones. They’d hoped they would drift off in time, but sleep had not come to them. They'd tried crying themselves to sleep – that hadn’t worked. They couldn’t switch off, no matter how hard they tried.

Toriel had made several attempts to coax them out, though she’d received no response. At one point, she’d ventured into their room to check on them. As soon as they heard the doorknob twist, Frisk buried their face in the pillow on their bed, pretending to be asleep. When they eventually heard the door close, they looked up once more and proceeded to lay there, unmoving.

She returned some time later, standing outside and knocking gently on the door. Frisk didn’t answer it. They just kept their eyes trained on the darkened ceiling, praying for their mind to go blank. Eventually, she decided to leave them be.

Frisk wondered if their outburst would be misunderstood. Toriel probably thought they were being petulant or sulky. They didn’t like being grounded, but they weren’t angry at her, or anything else, for that matter. In truth, they found it difficult to describe how they felt. They wanted to be alone because it felt like the only thing they _could_ do, given the circumstances they found themselves in.

The truth was that they wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. They couldn’t bear to see Toriel now. Speaking to her would remind them of their situation – how they’d exerted their power, manipulated realities and tampered with the timelines, all for a chance to be with her again. It was a cruel reminder of the dilemma they had manufactured – how they had willingly trapped themselves here.

And yet, a part of them rebelled. No, they weren’t ‘trapped’. They could still leave. Toriel would not be able to stop them. All they had to do was sneak out at the right moment while she was distracted. She wouldn’t even need to know.

The child tried to scrub those thoughts from their mind. Those sorts of ideas were painful to them. They knew they couldn’t leave her – not as soon as this. They’d only just gotten her back. This was what they’d wanted, so why did they find it so difficult to _stay_?

They pulled the sheets of the bed over them. Curled up under the bed sheets, they begged for sleep. They didn’t want to think about it anymore. They didn’t want to think about anything anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE'RE BACK. Oh my god. I'm sorry for abandoning this fic for so long. I got wrapped-up in a couple of other fics, and 2018 was a bit of a taxing year personally. There are only 2-3 chapters remaining for this fic so I will aim to get this done-and-dusted within the next couple of weeks.


End file.
